My Partner's Love
by crocious
Summary: Final part of the My Partner series. One hundred days after Batman saved Superman's life, Clark and Bruce are happy together. But while they bridge the final gap between them, the world begins to fall apart. TW: Domination, blood, child death
1. Chapter 1

**Hi. How are you? Me? I'm super-duper. Know why? It's because THIS is the fic I meant to write. Cutesy datesy gross BLAH! I hate myself for even thinking that chapter! No. Give me this. I realize I've been building it up, but that's only because I'm** ** _so relieved_** **to get this gross Batman shit out of my system FINALLY!  
-Cro**

The next few months were some of the happiest and most stressful of Clark's life. Pictures starting popping up on all the tabloids of him and Bruce, kissing, laughing, holding hands, and the Planet office had taken to teasing him about asking for a budget raise or open broom closets when Bruce visited- never within earshot of the stoic owner, of course, and Bruce made a point of never so much as looking at Clark to dissuade the rumors. But they persisted.

So too had the Justice League taken to teasing him mercilessly, even going so far as to bully Batman into joining. On one particular day, Batman shuffled over to Superman in the Watch Tower.

"We work with children," he'd growled.

"Why? What did Flash do?"

"They told me to ask you… if you and Bruce Wayne ever play Titanic."

"T…Titanic?"

"Where he's the ship and you're the iceberg…."

"Okay?"

"…and he goes down on you."

As Clark turned scarlet, Flash cackled and high-fived Wonder Woman's unwilling hand.

That was another source of serious stress. Whenever Bruce hinted at sex, Clark responded in the typical way, which is to say Bruce was the iceberg. He'd learned how to control what he'd started to call the Hunter in him, but just barely- the scent of Bruce's warm, sweet, swollen member still drove him feral, but only for a second before he beat his urges down. And every time, Clark couldn't help but fall in love a little harder with the fingers tearing at his hair, the muffled groans trying not to alert Alfred or Clark's neighbors, those hungry, steely eyes. And every time Bruce tried to reciprocate, the fantasy that kept Clark up at night, of the Hunter throwing Bruce onto the hard floor, licking, biting, sucking, taking Bruce's scarred body in every single way, unable to stop even if he wanted. So every time, Clark would get down onto his knees too and kiss Bruce as deeply and as sweetly as if he was just the soul that Clark had fallen in love with, with no heaving, hungry, heated body attached. So Bruce kept his distance, intensely frustrated.

But for every stress, there were two happinesses. Clark taking Bruce to a salsa class in Argentina. Bruce surprising him at his apartment for his birthday. Bruce making breakfast. Secret looks across the Watch Tower. The Louvre for lunch. Holing up in Siberia away from enemy surveillance with a warm quilt and a thermos of hot chocolate. Protecting Bruce. Kissing Bruce. Laying his head in Bruce's warm lap, whispering every vow of love he could imagine. Bruce letting down his walls just for him. Being vulnerable just for him. Being handsome and perfect and sweet and happy and warm and sexy and sleepy and wonderful- just for him.

Clark would fight an army of Hunters, if that's what it took to keep Bruce. He would endure all the torment in the world just to see that loving smile.

At least, that was the stream of thought coursing through Clark's mind as Perry White led Bruce Wayne past the copier.

"Yes, sir, as you can see we're operating under peak efficiency! I'm afraid it's more the demographic then anything, nobody buys papers anymore."

"So reduce production. Advertising online is much more lucrative, especially…Perry, who's this?"

They stopped right before a surprised Clark.

Perry was obviously surprised that Bruce Wayne didn't know the man he'd been photographed with dozens of times in the last three months. "This, ah, this is our reporter Clark Kent. Kent, you know Mr. Wayne."

Taking his cue from Bruce, Clark stuck out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir! What brings you to Metropolis?"

White was obviously floundering. He'd bought the tabloids hook, line and sinker. "Mr. Wayne is just checking on our…our budget efficiency, and…Kent, don't you have somewhere to be?"

Clark handed him the invoice he'd copied. "Not for another hour, I'm just editing Eric's copy on the Wickerson story for now."

Bruce nodded at Clark and turned to White in annoyance. "Peak efficiency, I see. You've got your reporters acting as editors? Let's just call the Emerson's Deli and tell them they make cheeseburgers now."

As Perry stuttered over his hurried excuses and explanations, Clark heard Bruce whisper low enough that only he could hear. " _Five minutes. The security office on sixth."_

The sixth floor had been closed for renovations for a week, and Clark wouldn't put it past Bruce to specifically order the complete reupholstering for exactly this meeting.

"AH!" Bruce exclaimed, interrupting Perry's explanation of utility. "I know where I recognize you from! You're that gentleman the Enquirer has been printing photos of! It's nice to finally meet the man I've been dating for almost three months!"

He laughed good-naturedly and Perry joined, a little nervously.

"Yeah," Perry chuckled. "It's amazing what Photo Shop can do these days! Why, I almost believed them!"

Clark scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Almost? Sir, you just begged me last week to convince Mr. Wayne to increase our printing budget."

Perry's furious face would have terrified Clark, if Bruce hadn't been covering an amused smirk with his hand.

"Get _out_ of here, Kent!" Perry roared, and Clark dashed out so fast he overshot Eric's desk.

Backing up, he smiled sheepishly at the newbie. "So don't get in White's way today."

Eric was shaking in fear. "What did you _do_?"

"Wayne's here and Perry's just on edge. Good draft, by the way, just make sure you're using those Oxford commas, and try not to call Mrs. Wickerson "the widow" until they actually find him, okay?"

Lois and Lana walked down the hall and Lois waved Lana on when she saw Clark.

"Somebody's in trou-ble!" she sang.

Clark smirked at her. "Barely," he said.

"What did you do, step on his dog?"

"Mr. Wayne is visiting," Eric said.

Lois raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Did he catch you _in flagrante_?"

Behind Eric's desk, a deep-throated cough interrupted them. Lois and Clark looked and Lois gasped in mortification.

Perry held his head in his hands as Bruce quirked an eyebrow at Lois. Clark bit his cheek to keep from grinning.

"He's right behind me," Eric trembled, "isn't he?"

Perry sighed heavily. "Lane, goddammit. Those pictures were obviously photoshopped."

"Obviously," Clark said, mocking seriousness.

"Oh, of course, sir!" Lois snapped to attention. "Obviously!"

Bruce nodded meaningfully at Clark and broke in. "So _this_ is the famous Lois Lane. Good work on the Senator Corbin story."

As Lois proudly explained how she'd uncovered his human trafficking ring, Clark excused himself and crept to the disused stairwell.

If he flew, he'd get up with enough time to pose himself seductively before Bruce made it upstairs. But even though this stairwell was only used for smoke breaks and gossip, the cameras loomed threateningly. Clark contented himself by running up the four flights of stairs and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.

On the desk? No, too inviting. Flexing playfully? No, Bruce never spoke to Clark at work, this might be serious. Butt? Yes. Yes, that would do.

The sixth floor was papered with construction signs and plastic sheets and the cameras hadn't been installed, so Clark flew to the security office at the end of the hall and prepared his butt to welcome Bruce to the-

"How the hell did you beat me up here?!"

Clark threw open the door to reveal a calm, heavy-lidded Bruce Wayne lying seductively on the empty security desk, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off a thick forest of chest hair; the effect was not lost on Clark, he just found the issue of being cheated out of his own seduction plan more pressing.

Bruce sat up slowly, languidly, spreading his knees apart on the edge of the white desk. "Elevator," he smirked, and Clark filled the gap between his lover's legs with his body as he covered Bruce's arrogant mouth with kiss after kiss.

"I love you," Clark murmured between kisses. "Oh, Bruce, I love you."

Bruce wrapped his legs around Clark's waist, pulling him close. "You'd better," he said.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Shanghai?"

"I blew them off," Bruce said, wrapping Clark's tie around his fist. "This is more important."

Clark looked around the stark white room. "Necking in my workplace?"

"No. I'm going straight from here to the Fortress. I'm going to meet you there after you get off work."

"Oh. Is…everything alright?"

Bruce ignored him. "I'm taking the night off for this, so there's no rush. Just be there."

With a final wet kiss, Bruce unwrapped himself from Clark and hopped off the desk, buttoning his shirt.

"Don't make me wait too long," Bruce said as he left the room. "It _is_ a necessary discussion,"

Clark was so nervous, he could barely pay attention to the protesters he was interviewing that afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is pretty much the most sexual thing I'm ever going to write. Erotica is...not my strongest style. But, at least it's better than that 50 Shades bullshit. I think.  
-Cro**

The day crept by so slowly that when 4:00 rolled around, Clark was buzzing in his chair.

"Who's staying late?" Perry called from his office. "I've got a bus full of-"

But Clark was out the door before he could get roped into another late night. He found the alley he always used and only checked twice to make sure it was empty before bursting into the air with a boom.

Superman spotted the black plane outside his base as soon as the curve of the earth gave way, and he almost crashed through the door in his anxiety. But he swerved up, landed gently and used the doorknob like a man who wasn't overcome with worry.

"4:07," Bruce's voice called from within the fortress. "You make good time."

The scent of chocolate filled Clark's nose and as he walked in, he loosened his tie. "Bruce, are you baking?"

Bruce emerged from the kitchen in his full Batman armor without the cowl. "Taste something for me."

"Why do you have your armor? Is everything okay?"

Bruce led him into the warm kitchen and handed him a glass of champagne. "I just wanted to finish everything before you got here," he said, clinking their glasses together. "No time to change."

Clark pulled his boyfriend in for a long, sweet kiss, and Bruce smirked.

"Hello to you too."

"What's going on?" Clark asked. "You made it sound like we needed to talk."

Bruce removed one of his gloves and dipped it into a warm pot of chocolate. "Taste," he said, offering it to Clark's lips.

Clark hesitantly put Bruce's finger in his mouth. "Mm!" he said, immediately licking and sucking it clean.

Bruce raised a thick eyebrow. "Good?"

Clark licked his lips. "Is that bourbon in there?"

"Rounds it out nicely, don't you think?" Bruce dipped a long-stemmed cherry into the mixture and held it to Clark's lips. "Taste."

Clark took hold of Bruce's wrist gently. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Bruce sighed and bit the cherry off the stem. "Not enough bourbon. Hand me that bottle."

"Bruce."

In answer, Bruce slowly removed his chest plate and other glove. Underneath, his tank was damp with sweat and the scent under the chocolate made Clark's eyes roll back in his head.

"Help me."

Compliantly, Clark dropped to his knees and leisurely unbuckled each boot and threw them over his shoulder. Then he pulled on his belt and lifted Bruce's shirt, kissing the little trail of hair running down his navel.

But when he tried to look into his favorite shade of blue in the world, Bruce was scowling. "No," he said.

"I'm…what?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

Clark drew back a little in confusion. "…I'm seducing you."

"Not like that you aren't," Bruce said, dropping to his knees. He smashed their faces together and raked his fingernails through Clark's hair, anchoring Clark's body against his own. So surprised was Clark that he didn't even notice Bruce unbuttoning his shirt until his bare chest was exposed and Bruce broke away to suck on his collarbone.

"Wait," Clark panicked. "Wait, Bruce! Slow down a second!"

Bruce broke away with a groan of frustration. "Tell me why you always do this!" he growled.

Clark sat back in alarm. "What? What did I do?"

Bruce stood up and finished off his glass of champagne in a gulp. "You never let me touch you," Bruce said. "Just when I think something's about to happen, you always find a reason to take care of me without letting me take care of you. Tell me why."

But Clark couldn't tell Bruce about the Hunter. How could he? If Bruce knew how hard he had to fight not to fuck him bloody and bruised every time Bruce touched him, how would he ever trust Clark again? How could they ever go back to holding hands in Vienna on their lunch break or talking about their days over a glass of wine if Clark told Bruce how badly he wanted to dig his nails into his hips and fuck him into next year?

"I don't… _want_ you to…take care of me."

"Don't you dare think I believe that," Bruce said through gritted teeth. "Do you think I don't know how you look at me? You want me just as badly as I want you."

Clark struggled to his feet, shaking with restraint. "Of course I do. Of course I…Bruce, I _do_ want you but-"

Bruce seized Clark's unbuttoned collar and crashed their faces together angrily, hotly, desperately. In shock, Clark forgot to resist for a few feverish, dizzy moments. His mouth tasted like Bruce and blood and heat and he felt something deep and animalistic surge under his skin like a thunderstorm, like a hurricane. His cock swelled against the fabric of his briefs; it seized with urge and for a moment Clark widened his mouth instinctively, ready to bite, ready to eat, ready to taste his lover's hungry tongue, ready to-

"No," Clark whispered as he pulled away. "Oh my God, Bruce, don't let me hurt you!"

Bruce was growling like a starving animal. "Stop treating me like I'm fragile!" he cried through gritted teeth. He clutched Clark's shirt in his trembling fists and pulled him down to his face. "I'm not made of glass, dammit! Why won't you trust me?"

Clark pushed his forehead against Bruce's and tried to keep his bearings, but it was a struggle; he could smell the pheromones, the heat, the sweat covering Bruce's neck and something deeper and earthier and richer that he had never smelled before, but which drew out a Hunter's instinct Clark had never known he'd had.

"I _do_ trust you," Clark panted. "I trust you, Bruce. Just- give me a second, I need to focus…"

But Bruce persisted. "Do you think I'm just some delicate princess you have to take care of, Clark? You've fought with me. You've fought _against_ me! You've seen what I can do!"

Clark's head swam and he felt like he was drowning, down, down, down the evolutionary line and every one of his Kryptonian ancestors chanted the same dark, imperative thing: " _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ "

"And I've seen what you can do," Bruce went on relentlessly. "And I am not afraid of you, Kal-El! Because I trust you in every single world, in every single way!"

The rushing of blood in his head all but drowned out the next three words, nor was Clark in any state to guess. His predatory instincts would have been impossible to fight under a red sun, but here he could beat them down, just barely.

"B-Bruce," he stammered. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead with the effort of refusing. "I…c-can't…"

And when Bruce pulled away, the silence crushed him to the bone.

"Or maybe it's not that," Bruce said coldly. "Maybe you're just repulsed by my preferences."

"W-what? No, Bruce, p-ple-"

"It's not some sick requirement I have of you." He sounded…hurt. Angry. Sad. "How unhinged do you think I _am_? I want _you_. I don't want anything other than what you want to give me. If domination is repulsive to you, then consider it forgotten. I just want _you_ , goddammit! I _want_ you, Clark!"

With a roar, the Hunter in Clark grabbed Bruce by the neck and the waist and slammed him against the wall, and with that little gasp of pain and surprise, shoved his thick, wet tongue into Bruce's excited mouth.

"Mmmmpf," Bruce moaned in pleasure and relief and Clark massaged his throat. His neck seized and Clark felt Bruce swallow his alien saliva with a groan of satisfaction.

"Bruce…" Clark rolled his mouth down Bruce's gasping throat and slid his hands under his shirt, up his wide, scarred, shaggy chest. "Take off your goddamn shirt."

Obediently, Bruce broke away and, without breaking ravenous eye contact, slowly lifted and shrugged his grey tank off to reveal his strong, stupidly muscled body, and Clark felt his groin pulling.

The second the shirt fell away, Clark grabbed both the pale wrists and with one hand pinned them above Bruce's head, who looked at him with those sharp blue eyes.

"Well, look who finally decided to join the party." Bruce smirked, followed by a gasp of pleasure as Clark bit his shoulder, hard.

"Did I say you could talk?" Clark rumbled. "Answer me."

"No, sir," and the desire in his heavy gasp echoed through the Fortress of Solitude over and over.

Clark bit the cartilage of Bruce's ear. "Tonight," he growled, "I want to hear every single sound that perfect mouth can make. Every sound except arrogance, or I will break you of it."

Bruce's chest thudded harder, quicker. "Yes, sir," he breathed.

"Good." At that, Clark released Bruce's wrists and let them fall onto his shoulders while he enfolded his arms round his partner's ass and lifted him. With a soft hum, Bruce wrapped his legs around Clark's waist and his arms around his neck.

"God," Clark said as he carried his lover to his large, unmade bed. "It feels like your blood is boiling!"

"It does that," Bruce murmured into Clark's shoulder, then yelped when he bit his throat just hard enough to get his attention.

"I said no arrogance," Clark said. "Do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine." He shifted his hips so his erection was impossible to ignore on Clark's stomach.

"Because we can table this for another day. It's not like it's now or never."

"I'm _fine_ , Clark!" A little thrust of his hips made the Superman weak at the knees. So he dropped Bruce onto the bed with a little bounce and climbed atop him.

He hesitated. "You're…you're sure?"

"God _damn_ it, Clark," Bruce yelled. "Just _fuck_ me!"

Clark smiled. "As you wish."


	3. Chapter 3

**Eesh. I guess I shouldn't mix Silver Age characterization with Modern Age plot. Nonetheless, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. Fuck Hush, this guy is SCARY. TW: child murder.  
-Cro**

Clark woke up before dawn to a shift in his bed. He opened his eyes to see Bruce gently climb out of his arms and out of bed, still naked and glistening.

"Hey," Clark slurred. "Hey you. Ge'backin bed, you."

Bruce turned and smiled, revealing several dark bite marks on his chest and neck and long scratches in his unshaven thighs. His skin glowed in the pale blue light of the fortress.

"I'll be right back," Bruce whispered. "Bathroom."

Clark caught his hand as he tried to leave and kissed it. "I love you."

"I love you too, Clark."

In that moment, Clark was happy. Blissful, even. At the moment his world felt whole. He watched his partner, his best friend, his lover, his _Bruce_ leave and he closed his eyes and waited for him to return.

But super heroes don't get days off. Super heroes don't get to bask in love and ignore the rest of the world. Super heroes don't get peace.

A single scream of anguish and Clark was on his naked feet running.

"Bruce! Bruce, what's wrong?!" He tore into the control room where Bruce, clad in his boxers, was fumbling with the remote, his face twisted in agony and disbelief.

"Gotham 7," he yelled desperately.

Alarmed, Clark took the remote and put a steadying hand on Bruce's shoulder, who shrank away.

The enormous screen came alive with a pair of grave anchors sitting at a news desk.

"- _responsible_ ," said the man.

The woman nodded at him, then the camera. " _If you're just joining us now_ ," she said seriously, " _the criminal known only as The Joker is claiming responsibility for the suicide bombing_ _last night_ , _which left twenty-nine children dead. Three teachers from the elementary school the children were abducted from remain in critical condition._ "

"No," Clark whispered in abject horror. Bruce silently watched with furious tears rolling down his cheeks.

" _The bomber, positively identified as Jack Gibson, was one of the Joker's most active thugs. A self-proclaimed Son of Chaos, Gibson had been arrested three times for drug possession and felony assault and was confirmed dead at the scene._ "

A wave of horrible recognition washed over Bruce's face.

" _This video was sent to the station as the children were abducted_ ," the man said. " _With the demand that we air it live without commentary and the stipulation that we play it every two hours until the vigilante known as the Batman comes forward and, quote…_ " The man choked on a sob and the woman finished for him.

" _Accepts his responsibility for the deaths of… Tamara Jones… Hunter Toledo… Jackson Zimmerman… Coleen Knott…_ "

Every single name on the list sent a spasm through Bruce. "It can't be," Clark whispered. "Why…why would anyone do this?"

" _And…and submits himself to the mercy of the people. End quote,_ " the woman finished.

" _The video we are about to show has content that will be disturbing,_ " the man said with a deep breath. " _We advise you watch at your own discretion."_

They cut away to a shaking view of the interior of a school bus, filled with crying children. " _Heyo, kiddies!_ " a filthy man in a rubber clown mask said as he pulled away from the handheld camera and looked through it on the dash, his deranged eyes large and clear through the holes. " _It's me! Your old pal Jacky!"_

Bruce slowly backed away from the screen into the wall. Clark reached out a comforting hand, but it was slapped away violently.

" _Hyuh hyuh hyuh! And I'm here with my good friend Giselle! Giselle, come here!_ " A little girl in a front seat shrank away from the man in the aisle, crying silently.

" _I said come HERE_ ," he roared, yanking her forward by her wrist. She shrieked in pain and fear, but Jack pulled her up by the collar of her shirt. " _Hi, Giselle!"_ he said cheerfully. _"_ _My friend Giselle is in second grade, isn't that right! And she likes ponies and cotton candy and Batman too! Come on, Giselle, tell the nice people what you told me! Tell them! Tell them._ "

The little girl steeled herself and wiped the tears from her face with a determined expression. " _You won't get away with this_ ," the brave little girl said slowly. _"_ _Batman will save us."_

 _"_ _BATMAN! BAHAHAHA! Oh Giselle, you're funny! That's why we're best friends!_ " He smacked her across the face and she fell into the lap of a school mate. " _'_ _Batman will save us,' oh Giselle! That is rich! Batman hasn't saved anyone in weeks!_ "

With a snarl, Bruce dug his nails into a chair.

"I'm turning it off," Clark said gently, but Bruce snatched the remote out of his hand and turned up the volume.

" _Who else thinks Batman is going to save us, hmm? Anybody? You there, you believe in the Batman, yes? Come on up, champ!_ "

A tiny blond boy hesitantly stood up and slowly walked toward Jack. _"_ _Mommy told me,_ " he said, " _Mommy told me that I shouldn't be afraid of clowns because Batman, he'll chase them all away. Because clowns are scared of heroes."_

Jack glared coldly from behind his mask. " _Come here, squirt,"_ he said with exaggerated cheer. " _What's your name?_ "

" _My name is Jackson Zimmerman,_ " he said, lisping a little. " _I'm in kindergarten, I like kangaroos and cupcakes and Mrs. Steel, and… and I wanna go home!_ "

Clark buried his sob in his hand.

 _"_ _And are you afraid of clowns?_ " Jack sneered.

" _No, cuz Batman will chase them all away! Whoosh!"_

The entire bus screamed as Jack took a small revolver out of his breast pocket and placed it against the wailing kindergartener's temple. " _How 'bout now?_ _No? Nothing? Okay, pop quiz, kiddos! Where is Uncle Jack taking us? Shoelaces. You_."

A little boy recoiled. " _N…Never Never Land._ "

" _Very good, Shoelaces! Now, this right here? This is an express ticket to Never Never Land! And little Jackson here just bought himself the first seat, yaaaay!"_

Older kids shielded younger kids from seeing, though their horror spread through the bus quickly. Jack picked up the struggling kindergartener and looked at the camera.

" _Batman of Gotham. This is a message direct from Joker. You have two hours to find us. Every four minutes one of us will die, starting with this little puke right here. Jackson! Say bye-bye to Mommy!_ "

" _Batman, help me! Help me please!_ "

"Look away, Bruce," Clark said. "Don't look."

But Bruce's eyes remained fixed on the screen, watering in rage. Jack drew the revolver a few inches from Jackson's head and stayed there for a long, long moment. Finally, Jack grinned.

" _What's yellow and white and doesn't sound right?"_ He squeezed the trigger.

A little white flag sprung out of the gun with yellow letters Clark could barely make out as the word, "ZOINKS."

" _Ahahahaha HAHAHAHA!_ " Jack burst. Bruce turned white.

" _Don't you get it, kids? It was a fake-out! A joke! Laugh!_ "

"Clark…."

" _WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING?!"_

"Clark, close your eyes! Don't watch!" Bruce leapt at Clark and covered his eyes with his hands just as the screaming and the banging started. For a full thirty seconds it went on: the swing, the crunch, the wet splat, the shrieks, the sounds of a child being sick, and every horrible sound sent a vicious tremor through Batman's hands.

When it was over, Batman removed his trembling hands so Clark could see the bus, covered in brain and blood and splintered bones. Jack discarded the little boy's foot as though it was a dirty napkin. The children screamed and screamed.

" _Every four minutes, Batman_ ," the horrifying clown mask said. " _And at the end, I'll blow this bus up. No bodies for mommies and daddies! Yay, Never Never Land!_ " As Jack skipped down the aisle, Giselle made a break for it, but Jack chased her down and tackled her. " _This one's next, Batman!_ " he laughed. " _Three minutes!_ "

"T…turn it off," Clark whispered.

He did.

They sat in silence.

"Alfred…I got Alfred's messages when I found my suit."

"Bruce…"

"He said I should leave Gotham. Never go back. He said it's safer that way."

"You can stay with me, I'll-"

"I need to go home," Bruce said with resolve. "I need to…"

"What? Tell me what you need to do, I'll help."

Bruce picked his suit up from the ground and put it back on slowly, piece by piece. "There's nothing you can do, Superman. Even if I wanted your help."

Oh no. He was Superman again, and Batman didn't even want him around. "What's your plan? You can't just fly in with no explanation!"

"I have an explanation," Bruce said as he put on his cowl, making him unreadable. "My judgment was compromised. I put myself else above my own city, and that will never, ever happen again."

Clark's stomach dropped. "It's not your fault, Bruce," he tried to say. "I'm-"

Batman slammed his hand into the wall, cracking the crystal and splintering his gauntlet. "I could have _stopped_ him!" he cried. "I could have intercepted him! Defused the bomb! I could have saved those damn kids! But instead I was off with- with-"

He blamed him, Superman realized. Batman blamed Superman for those kids, but how could he have known that a thousand miles away from the Fortress of Solitude, a psychopath was rigging a school bus with fireworks, waiting for The Batman to stop him? He couldn't have.

But more accurately, he could have. If he hadn't been wrapped up in Bruce's body, counting each scar with an intimate kiss, tasting his partner's gooseflesh, feeling each and every heartbeat through his hot skin, studying each and every color in his lover's eyes… if he hadn't been listening only to their own moans, their own giggles, their own gasps, then maybe he would have heard the desperate buzzing from Batman's belt. Maybe he would have heard the screams.

"I…I didn't know," Clark's voice wavered as he followed Batman outside to the waiting Batplane. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that was what would…"

"I don't blame you," Bruce snapped. "I let this happen."

"How could you have known?"

Batman sat himself down roughly in the pilot's seat. "I could have been there. In Gotham. Alone," he added, and Clark's heart almost stopped.

"It's not your responsibility to stalk Gotham every night, waiting for a crime to stop."

"Yes it is," said Batman, and promptly slammed his door and took off.


	4. Chapter 4

**In which Lois is my pretty mouthpiece. Hey, Lo. Sup, boo. You get that Pulitzer, honey, you go.  
-Cro**

Maybe Superman should have overtaken Batman and forced him back to the fortress until the image of a kindergartener's smashed skull faded from his memory. Years. Decades, as long as it took. But that's not Superman. And that's not Batman.

Instead, Clark put on his glasses and dressed quickly into his day job clothes. Instead, he answered his phone.

"Hello."

" _Superman, where is Batman? Is he alright?_ "

Clark put on his shoes. "You saw the news."

" _Everyone's seen the news_ ," Wonder Woman admonished. " _29 kids, that's completely sick. Where was Batman_?"

"It's…it's not his fault, Diana." _It's mine._

" _Of course not! Gods, he doesn't think that, does he? No, of course it's not his fault. He couldn't stop something like this, Batman is just…_ "

Just. That's what they all thought of him. Just a mortal. Just a man. "Batman isn't _just_ ANYTHING, Diana! Batman is Batman, and _everything_ that means! He's…! He's…."

Everything.

The line was quiet. Then finally: " _Tell me where to meet you. We need to talk._ "

"No," Clark said, coldly. "I'm going after him."

" _Then listen very carefully to what I say to you, Clark_."

His stomach dropped. "…Who?"

" _I've stood by and let you two carry on as if the world isn't at stake,"_ Wonder Woman snarled through the phone. " _And I haven't told a soul, because I thought you two would come to your senses. But you haven't. And now your affair has a body count. Why wasn't Batman in Gotham last night?_ "

"It's…my fault." Clark stopped in his tracks. "You think it's my fault."

" _I think out of the two of you_ ," she growled, " _you could have seen past your selfish urges and decided the risks weren't worth it. Like it or not, this is my problem now, and if you go after that man I can't tell you how many other lives you'll endanger. If you're going to Gotham, then you're waiting for the Justice League because you can't be trusted on your own."_

"But…" But what? But I want to talk to him alone? But you won't be as gentle with him as he needs? But I just want to say goodbye? "…I love him."

Wonder Woman sighed. " _More than you love the world? He's just a man, Clark."_

No. "He's not _just_ anything."

" _He's just a man."_

…

In the end, Clark Kent flew above the radar in Wonder Woman's Invisible Plane and outran her to Gotham. He touched down in a little empty alley and followed the sound of a commotion, to a large mob in front of the police station.

Gotham was screaming for blood and waving signs calling for the Joker's hanging, Batman's exile, justice for the twenty nine children that had been so savagely murdered last night. At the back, a large black man comforted his wife, and when they turned to each other Clark saw Giselle's eyes in her face and her nose on his.

Gotham had lost twenty nine people, and they wanted them back.

As he took a horrified step back, Clark spotted a familiar face in the crowd. "Lois?"

Lois Lane caught Clark's eye from twenty feet away and her pretty face colored with frustration.

"Dammit!" she yelled over the pack as she pushed her way to him. "How do you always get the jump on me for the superhero stories?"

His heart sank. "You're here for the…"

"The terrorist attack, yeah," she huffed. "Hardback's calling a press conference in an hour and rumor has it that the actual Batman is gonna show."

Oh no. "He is?"

"That's what Debbie tells me! He'd better, don't you think? After what happened to those poor kids?"

"You think that was Batman's fault." Clark's face fell into an angry scowl. How dare anyone blame this on him!

"Right." Lois rolled her eyes. "I forgot you're a Batman fanboy. Don't get so defensive, Joker took credit for the bomb and it would just be stupid for a journalist to blame anyone but him and his thugs."

"But who," Lois stood on her tiptoes to whisper in Clark's ear, "is responsible for the Joker?"

Clark drew back in soft horror. "Don't tell me you blame Batman for that monster."

"I blame Batman for all the monsters," Lois explained, ignoring Clark's repulsion. "Freeze, Ivy, Riddler, Penguin, everyone. Before Batman, none of them even existed! It wasn't until Batman started beating up gangsters and low-level mob muscle that they started coming in with money and resources that Gotham just can't contend with. Batman is single-handedly responsible for embroiling Gotham in an arms race with a hell of a body count, and seeing as there's only one of him and villains are flocking to Gotham in droves, I figure it's only a matter of time before the city loses."

Clark felt like throwing up. "That's so…"

"Follow the money, Clark. That's what Lana always says. And there's a lot of it. Joker's all grassroots and teeth, but Penguin, Catwoman, Hush and all them? Not to mention Batman who runs around in a suit that costs at least 300 grand every night like it's nothing! Someone is paying these people to be here, don't tell me it's a coincidence that they all arrived at the same time."

"Batman's a volunteer," Clark said, quaking with indignation. "He doesn't have to run himself ragged every night trying to help Gotham! He chooses to!"

"He's a pretty well paid volunteer!" Lois barked back. "All told, his gadgets and cars and suits and all over the last five years cost eight figures, easy. Gotham could have used that money for more than an arms race nobody wants! They could have rebuilt the school systems so high schoolers don't have to work for the mob bosses to get by! They could have invested in local businesses, or investigations into the corrupt officials that got Gotham this bad in the first place!"

Lois remembered herself and cleared her throat coolly. "I know Batman means well," she said. "But he promised these people that he would keep them safe, and he hasn't. Thanks to him, Gotham is in more danger than it's ever been. Did you see the video?"

Clark's stomach turned. "Some."

"I couldn't stand it either. Joker will never, ever be forgiven for this, and there's no punishment on this earth that suits this. But it's an hour of children screaming for Batman to save them, and he never did. Those babies died knowing they were betrayed, and if Batman was able to help and didn't he _has_ to answer for it. Oh, wow!"

Behind him, Clark heard the flapping of enormous wings and the hum of a jet engine. Lois grabbed her camera and pushed past Clark to get a picture of the Justice League arriving and Clark slipped into the throng of mourners.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am the physical manifestation of relief. I am so ready to be done with Batman, you have no earthly idea. That said, if you're a headhunter for DC looking for writers to confirm the gay Batman theory (y'all published GC #289, not me, you can't get pissy about that) then I am your gal. Hit me up, boo.  
-Cro**

The manor loomed before him, and Clark had never felt so helpless in his life. But it had to be done. So one, two, three; he knocked and waited.

Twenty seconds later Alfred opened the door with a barely concealed sneer. "Master Wayne has specifically requested you not be admitted, Mr. Kent."

"I know," Superman said guiltily. "Please let me see him."

"I'm afraid I can't, Mr. Kent. Please leave immediately."

Clark watched the butler carefully. His mustache quivered so slightly that Clark almost didn't catch it, nor the momentary softening of his hard, weathered skin. "You love Bruce, don't you, Mr. Pennyworth?" Clark said. "I know you've tried to keep your relationship professional, but you raised him. You take care of him every day. You go far beyond the call of a butler's duty and I know you love him."

Alfred straightened haughtily. "My feelings for my employer are irrelevant to my orders. I've been ordered to keep you off the premises and I will."

Clark smiled ruefully. "We both know that if I had any inclination to come in without your express permission, I could. But I don't. I want you to forgive me, Alfred. And I want you to understand that I love Bruce too. I want to know that you think I have a right to see him. You know Bruce better than anyone, and if you honestly believe that I'm no good for him or Gotham, I'll keep my distance."

Alfred's sneer returned. "Will you indeed?"

"Yes. You'll never see me again. If I'm hurting Bruce in any way, tell me and I'll put myself as far away from him as I can. I promise."

For a long, long moment, Alfred considered the large man on the porch. Finally, he sighed and opened the door to let Clark in.

"Don't mistake me," Alfred warned when Clark dared to smile. "My loyalties are to Master Bruce alone, and if at any point I _ever_ consider you a threat, you will see neither hair, nor hide of either of us for the rest of your life. That's _my_ promise."

Before Clark could thank him, Alfred disappeared. But Clark was undaunted; he let himself in and made his way to the elevator. He knew every hidden passage by heart, and a helpful hand had opened all the sequenced keys in the pianos and bookshelves ahead of him, evidently because Bruce had already changed the codes Clark had known in his sleep. He came to the elevator, and after only a moment's hesitation, rode it down, down, down to the subterranean Bat Cave.

"Get out," a voice said before the elevator touched.

"We need to talk," Clark replied, wrenching the door open and jumping down. Batman was at his control panel with every facet of Gotham displayed in boxes on the screen. He didn't even turn around.

"I have nothing to say to you."

Clark passed one of Light's androids, cracked and painstakingly put back together for the display. "You will," he said, "because I have a _lot_ to say to you."

Batman pulled up a particular box showing the interior of one of the mob-run flower shops from the outside. "Leave a message with Alfred," he said, writing notes without looking away from the screen. A meeting was evidently taking place, and not one of the nice meetings that don't have a hostage gagged and bound on the table. "And send him down. I need to have a few words with him."

"Don't blame Alfred," Clark said defensively, passing a smashed set of themed armor. "He cares about you."

"I gave him explicit orders."

"He _cares_ about you!" A death ray the two of them had wrested from Luthor three years ago shuddered with the force of his stomp. "When you start behaving self-destructively, he's _always_ going to be there to help! He loves you, Bruce!"

At that, Batman finally tore his eyes away from the massive computer with a snarl. "I rescind your permission to call me that."

Oof. That hurt. "I didn't come to talk to Batman."

"Then get out." Batman turned back to the screen and his notes, pulling up a schoolyard where elementary school students stayed close to the doors and their teachers took posts at every corner of the playground.

Superman stopped in his tracks, just far enough from Batman to see him flinch. "You're not going to that press conference, are you?"

"I have to," he said flatly.

"They'll tear you apart."

Batman huffed. "If they do, I'll have earned it.

"Let me come with you," Superman suggested. "I can help, I can-"

" _No!_ " Batman snapped. "Gotham is _my_ responsibility and I'll be damned if I surrender her to anyone!"

Clark knew better than to push. "If… you ever need help…."

"I won't."

For a long time, they stood in pregnant silence. Then Clark sighed.

"Batman."

The panel clicked in response.

"I know why you're afraid," Clark said. "I'm afraid too."

"Nothing of this earth can hurt you," Batman said shortly. "Short of Kryptonite, there's nothing here for you to be afraid of."

"There's a _lot_ that I'm afraid of. And all of them are in this cave. I fell in love with the most powerful person I know, and I can't see past Bruce Wayne. I'm compromised. Bruce is my kryptonite, sure as anything, and nothing in this world is more important to me than him."

Batman's shoulders sank. "Trust me," he growled. "You can do better."

Clark took a tentative step forward. "Even if I could," he said, walking slowly, "I wouldn't want to. Being with Bruce Wayne is the only thing I want to do."

Batman stiffened. "Then you need to work out your priorities. With powers like that, every second you aren't helping someone is a waste of time."

He was close enough to touch now. It would be so, so easy to take one last goodbye from those thin, perfect lips. But Clark held his hands at his sides rigidly. "I think Bruce Wayne needs my help."

"Rich guys like that can take care of themselves."

An inch away. So damn close. Clark started filling every crevice of Bruce's body with his own, leaving a centimeter of space between them- just close enough to feel his heat. "I think," he murmured over Batman's shoulder, "that I need his help."

That would have been it. Bruce let out a helpless sigh and leaned his head back onto Clark's shoulder and began to fold himself into him, but suddenly an alarm sounded on the computer and Batman jumped away from Superman.

The flower shop onscreen exploded with activity and gunfire and Batman pressed a button on the panel to send the Batmobile screeching out of its garage.

"Clark," Batman said, climbing into his car. "I'm not anticipating leaving the press conference very soon after this."

"Yes?" Superman asked hopefully.

"But when I get back," Batman said, "I want you out of Gotham. Don't ever let me catch you within city limits again."

Even now, knowing what he had to do, it would be so simple to lift the Batmobile by the front wheels and pull Batman out. It would be so easy to push that lead-lined cowl up and take one last look at his love's face before kissing him for the last time, pushing him onto the hood of his car, spreading his legs apart, touching him through his armor…

It wouldn't matter. It would just be another memory Clark could hold onto by himself, one last vow of love to keep him warm at night.

But it did matter. It mattered to Bruce. It mattered to Batman.

So instead, he watched the black car peel out of the cave, into Gotham, and he loved him silently.

Instead, he followed the car out and gave the Bat Cave one last longing look before bursting the sound barrier with his takeoff.

Earth fell down, down, down below Superman's feet. The Batmobile disappeared into Gotham, which disappeared into Illinois, which disappeared into the wide, green swath of the United States. Somewhere down there, Ma Kent was making breakfast for herself. Somewhere down there, Karen Starr was hitting the snooze button and crushing the clock. Wonder Woman would be calming the people of Gotham while Lois wrote down her every facial expression. J'onn would see where Superman was, and he would curiously follow him with all of his artificial eyes. Maybe he'd even see Superman's plan and warn the Justice League.

And Bruce Wayne would be just now arriving at the feeding frenzy, ready to throw himself at his city's mercy.

Clark's civvies had fallen apart under his speed- Kara always had told him to buy less cheap suits, but it hardly mattered now, as his suit and cape was all he needed. The cold hit Superman at once when he broke through the ionosphere and he stumbled. But he was unwilling to sacrifice speed, momentum, so he gritted his teeth and thought warm thoughts as he broke through to the empty blackness of space and flew as fast as he could in the direction of the Pacific Ocean.

Bruce's skin, he thought, watching the world zip by four hundred miles below. Bruce's breath. Bruce's tongue, hot and wet and agile. The earthy, heavy, dizzying scent of Bruce's body. The taste.

Faster and faster and faster he flew, blinking away the ice crystals forming on his eyes. The earth spun below him, defying him, and he roared into empty space, up here where no one could hear him, all the things no one else would remember. All the things that were his alone.

"His eyes!" Superman screamed noiselessly, urging his muscles on. "His detective books! He never shaved his chest hair! He sent Ma flowers! I held him! I held him, I loved him, I kissed his fingers and they were hot too!"

Almost imperceptibly, the earth below Clark spun a little slower. The winds would be catastrophic down there, the inertia of the crust throwing cars through buildings and buildings through people. Diana would immediately rush to evacuate Gotham, Clark knew. J'onn would sit and wait to be extinguished. Kara would feel the earth move and wake up, and she wouldn't even bother with her outfit because if there's one thing Kryptonians know better than anyone, it's what a world feels like just before the apocalypse.

Only Batman alone would ground himself, would stare up at the sky as the world around him shrieked and tried to protect each other. Only Bruce Wayne would know why the world was ending, and Clark hoped his last thoughts were charitable.

Clark sped up, defying every physical law he'd ever learned in high school, defying every screaming muscle in his body, defying the cracking of his bones, and the earth below him stopped under the weight of his determination. The people might be frozen, or maybe crushed, but Clark fought the urge to stop, to rest, to make sure his mother had gotten out of the rickety old farmhouse in time.

Then slowly, slowly the earth began to follow Clark's lead. Then faster, ever faster. Clark barely managed to count the times the United States passed the sun, but the counting was a welcome reprieve from the thinking.

One hundred and one. One hundred and one days ago. One hundred and one nights. Clark stopped abruptly and dove back to earth.

It was motionless. It was all motionless. But there wasn't a single moment to waste on looking at the frozen cars on the roads. The people blazed below him, statuesque, faces frozen in the conversations they'd had one hundred and one nights ago and Clark followed midnight to Metropolis.

The red figure of Flash trotted at the speed most people amble at, and though the rest of the world seemed frozen, Clark knew it was only a matter of seconds before it started moving forward again. He crushed the ground with his landing, and Flash spotted him.

"Has he got the gun yet?"

Flash's voice was only barely slowed down. "What gun? Oh man, two Supermans! Wait, is it Supermans or Supermen? Two Supermen? Wait, where are you going?"

Clark was over to Luthor's side in an instant. Lex Luthor was removing a gun from a steel case and Superman felt weak just looking at it. He snatched it and shoved it into its case with the kryptonite-tipped bullets bound for Clark's chest, for Batman's armor. In his arms was the future they'd never have now. The bloodstained tub. The weight of Bruce pinning Clark to his bed and daring him to make Bruce fall in love. The bouquet of mismatched flowers. That sunset. Bruce's fingers intertwined with his own under Ma's blanket. Bruce's firm chest. His heat. His perfect lips caressing Clark's. His heartbeat, his hands, his whispered declarations of love, every bit of that lay within this black steel case.

There too were the moments that Clark would never remember: cooking dinner, picnics in Metropolis, arguing about how to decorate the mansion, making up, Christmases trying to surprise him, proposing, letting Diana throw their shower, their wedding, their anniversaries. In this little case was Bruce's stubborn gray hair, and Clark kissing his temple and telling him how dashing he is, and feeling Batman's back against his own as they faced the next of thousands of altercations, and Clark convincing him to retire, leave Wayne Manor with Dick, come with him around the world to see all the sunsets he'd never bothered to watch.

Vacations with his love. A dog they'd adopt together. Secret looks across the room as Clark Kent covered another of Bruce Wayne's soirees. Carrying him home and covering him in kisses.

How many people would have to die for a dream like that to come true? How many hearts would Clark break to save his own?

The flash of a bracer caught his eye. Slowly, the world began to move again, and there was no choice. There was never a choice.

The Superman of one hundred and one days ago was holding a steel beam over his head and directing the janitors and the office workers who would never again pull an all-nighter away from their family out of the falling building. Clark put the case under his arm and walked up to him, scribbling a note as he went.

Flash was at his side. "Hey, what's in the box? Is it cool? What are you doing here, anyway? Is this gonna cause a paradox? Hey, how are you moving so fast, you barely look like you're even walking! How come there's two of you, are you a government clone?"

The Superman of one hundred and one days ago began to thrust the steel beam up and Clark slipped the note into his belt, knowing that he didn't have the luxury of hesitation.

"What's that say? Why are you giving it to your clone, can I read it?"

"Flash," Clark said, his voice cracking with grief. "You like playing matchmaker, don't you?"

"Boy, do I ever! Remember when Black Canary and Hal went out? That was me, I'm a genius!"

"You are," Clark smiled sadly. "Do you think you can make Batman fall in love with.…" He pondered on a suitable person, remembering the way Diana looked at Bruce when he proposed a solution to a problem no one else in the Justice League could think of, or the way she demanded he perform up to the standards of everyone else, sans powers, because she knew he'd surpass them. Diana would never allow Bruce to lose sight of his priorities. Diana could make him happy, surely, and in one hundred and one days, Giselle Mohammad would wake up for school and Jackson Zimmerman wouldn't be afraid of clowns. Clark looked over to the frozen figure of the Batman of one hundred and one days ago. Under that mask was the man he still loved, but would never know.

"Wiiiiiiith?" Flash teased.

"Wonder Woman," Clark said. If he had a little more time, maybe he would have thought of something that wouldn't break his heart so horribly, but the world was speeding up and Superman was looking this way.

"Mom?" Flash seemed dumbfounded. "But I thought… Okay, if you really want."

"Thank you." Clark sighed. "Luthor's about to notice I took this, so get ready to knock him out."

"You're leaving? C'mon, Supes, stick around! Two Supermans, it'll be great!"

Past Superman's eyes were focusing on them. "I can't," Clark despaired. "I have to go now."

Without waiting for a response, Clark shot into the air just as the world sped up again and the chaos resumed.

Luthor reached for his gun and, finding it gone, cursed Superman's name. Wonder Woman smashed through jar after jar of his super DNA samples and Hawk Girl swung her mace into the engine of his getaway car while Green Lantern knocked out each of his thugs in quick succession. Aqua Man resumed putting out the fire in the building Superman continued evacuating, and Batman rushed Lex Luthor from the left.

Only Flash had any idea that Clark from one hundred and one days in the future had been there, and not a one of them had any reason to suspect he was on his way to the dark side of the moon to store the only weapon he had ever known to bring him to his knees. They were otherwise occupied.

By the time Luthor was in handcuffs, Clark guessed, he'd left the atmosphere. By the time he was in the back of the waiting car, Clark was on the empty side of the moon.

It was bitterly, bitterly cold, and terribly, terribly dark. But guided by the dim lights of the distant stars and the planets, Clark found a small crater in the middle of a large patch of smooth, unmolested rock. A crater that would be easy enough to find, if he had to.

Clark placed the case in the center of the crater and, after a moment of hesitation, covered it with dust. Who would find it? Clark wasn't sure if anyone _could_ , but caution was never unnecessary in his experience. After he was satisfied with the camouflage, Kal-El straightened and looked up at the wide, black, speckled sky.

"He loved me," he whispered soundlessly, steeling himself against what he knew he had to do. "He loved me, and knowing that is enough. It's enough for me."

And with that, he chose a bright point in the sky and leapt, hoping somewhere in that direction spun his new home.


	6. Epilogue

**Notice I left a few plot holes in the conclusion? Here's a couple closed up, but the rest I'm leaving intentionally open in case I ever decide to reopen this storyline. SEE DC?! YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN USE CONTRIVED COMIC LOGIC FOR THEIR OWN ENDS! Fuck you, hire me.  
-Cro**

One hundred and one mornings later, Clark Kent woke up in his empty bed. He'd barely slept at all. His dreams were filled to the brim with things he couldn't remember and things he wasn't sure he wanted to. So he groggily shuffled toward the kitchen where the welcome smell of coffee made promises he couldn't ignore.

Lois was already awake, probably on her second cup already with the newspaper spread before her.

"Ha!" she grinned at Clark. "Beat you up!"

Clark smiled. Lois was so beautiful in his shirt from yesterday and her mussed black hair. Her clean, smooth face was _made_ for smiles.

So he kissed her on the cheek and poured himself a cup in his novelty "Just a Big FUCKING Ray of Sunshine" mug.

"So!" Lois' voice was overflowing with mischief and Clark rolled his eyes. "Sleep well?"

"Huh? Uh, not really." He sat down heavily at the small kitchen table across from Lois. "What was in that tea you brought over?"

"Don't blame the tea," Lois smirked. "Who's Bruce?"

The blood drained from Clark's face. "Bruce?"

"Yeah!" Lois kicked back in her chair and put her bare feet on the table to bug her boyfriend. "You were moaning his name _alllll_ night! Did you have a sex dream about Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce Wayne, his best friend and crime-fighting partner, had bought the Daily Planet a year ago, and while they always took care not to so much as acknowledge each other at the office, Lois had taken their indifference as intentional and liked to tease Clark about his pal, his buddy, his doubles partner.

"Oh," he said. Thinking about Bruce now made Clark's stomach turn teasingly. "Lois, you know you're the only billionaire playboy philanthropist for me."

"Come one," she laughed. "You haven't even asked me to move in yet! Who cares if you had a sex dream about Mr. Wayne! Was it juicy? Is he a top or a bottom? Power-bottom, right? I _bet_ he's a power-bottom!"

"Aren't you late for work?" Clark asked, irritated.

Lois stood up and stretched. "It's a late morning. Most of the coverage today is going to be how Batman rescued those kids, so I just have to edit some fangirling down to five hundred words before tomorrow."

Kids? That sounded like a story he'd have to ask Bruce about this afternoon. "What happened?"

Lois slurped down the rest of his coffee. "One of Joker's lackeys kidnapped a bunch of latchkey kids in a school bus, but Batman intercepted them before they even got onto the highway. You know. A Batman story."

Clark's chest swelled with relief and pride. "Oh, good!"

"I brought a change so I can just head from here to the office. Any plans for your day off?"

"Ha! Day off, that's a laugh!"

Lois smiled and kissed Clark's temple. "Don't work too hard, you still owe me a birthday dinner!"

As she walked across the tiny apartment to the bedroom, Lois swished Clark's shirt just so to give him a peek at her bottom. He caught the hint, but he just wasn't feeling it. He was thinking too hard about the note he'd found in his belt one hundred and one days ago that said "CHOOSE LOIS. CK." Though it had confused him, Flash's claims of a Superman clone, along with the handwriting, meant he should trust it. He didn't understand to what he should attribute the last one hundred days of happiness, but he'd never doubted it. When life hands you a hint, Ma Kent always said, don't make it repeat itself.

So he never had.


End file.
